


com més vell més poc cervell (wisdom goes not always by years)

by redbrunja



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: "Would you mind coming to Spain, Marta? I could use the assistance of your kind heart."
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	com més vell més poc cervell (wisdom goes not always by years)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FictionPenned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionPenned/gifts).



Marta's sister had booked her flight from Boston to Barcelona, which meant it was first class. (Her sister had taken to being rich like a duck to water.)

Still, Marta could admit that it was probably good for her ability to assist Benoit that she slept all the way across the Atlantic and over half of Spain. She was served delicious coffee when she woke and was feeling close to rested when she arrived.

Benoit was waiting for her once she was through customs.

"Marta," he said fondly, and opened his arms to hug her. Marta leaned into him for a long moment, inhaling the scent of tobacco and the expensive cologne he wore. He'd been a rock for her during the trial and being in his presence again calmed her immediately.

"Thank you for inviting me," she said as he took her luggage and lead her toward his car.

"I should be thanking you," he replied. "I find myself in a situation where a softer touch is needed, and I admit, I am at a disadvantage with the language. My French is more serviceable than my Spanish."

Marta had left Boston in the midst of a wet, chilly autumn. By comparison, Spain was balmy. Benoit handed her a pair of sunglasses when he caught her squinting. She left her jacket and sweater in the backseat, the sun warm on her arms.

They were quickly out of the city and into gently rolling hills. They passed occasional vineyards, grapes stretching in orderly rows, and Marta watched closely to catch quick glimpses of people harvesting.

Benoit caught her up on recent developments to the situation as they drove. This situation was this:

The grand-daughter of Ines De León, an old friend of Benoit's father, had vanished from her bedroom almost a week ago. No note, phone left in it's charger, car keys in her purse, all the cars in the garage. Had any clothes been taken? No one could say for sure, given the grand-daughter, Luciana's, generous walk-in closet filled with designer clothing and shoes and accessories.

The recently ex boyfriend was suspected, given his late arrival to work on the same morning she was found missing, but no evidence tied him to the crime, and there was no body.

Given Ines' position in the community and the wealth at her disposal, the police had treated the situation like a missing person from the start but with no charges on any of her credit cards, no signs of foul play, no body, the police had found only dead ends. They'd repeatedly interviewed her ex, her friends, but all of them stubbornly insisted they didn't know what happened to her.

They arrived at the De León villa and Marta left out a deep breath. It was a multi-story building that looked both majestic and cozy, warm, rosy stones glowing in the sun. Benoit parked the car on the white gravel drive way and then lead her around to toward the back of the villa. They walked past a brilliantly blue pool that rippling invitingly, mirroring the blue of the sky.

They stepped into the house, and there was a lovely woman of a certain age waiting, her dark hair generously streaked with grey, her face full of smile lines.

"Welcome," she said, coming forward to take Marta's hands. "Oh, you are exactly as Benoit described you. I hope you can help return my grand-daughter to me."

"I'll try," Marta said, feeling out of her depth. Ines led her through the house, showed her grand daughter's room.

"Where are her parents?" Marta asked.

Ines exhaled heavily. "Her mother is dead, god rest her soul. My idiot son is still in Cannes; he said that he couldn't do more for Luciana than the police, and to call him when they learned something. They aren't doing anything!"

Ines rubbed her forehead. "I went wrong with that boy. Spoiled him. But Luciana - she was a good girl. I raised _her_ right."

Marta put her hand on Ines' shoulder comfortingly.

* * *

Benoit drove them back into Barcelona. Marta rolled down her window, rested her elbow on the open window, her face in her hand. The sweet air blew into her face, tangled her hair.

She thought of Ines in that big house, all alone. Luciana's father in Cannes, Luciana missing.

"Do you think money always...." she trailed off, not sure how to finish.

Benoit was familiar with her struggles. He had been at her side for both of Ransom's trials, the defense for which hinged on casting Marta as a seductive angel of death who had seduced and killed Harlan, and then framed his grandson for the crime. Her mother's immigration status had become public, every scrap of her life had been pulled up and chewed over, the remaining Thrombey's publicly insulting her or pressuring her for money or doing both. Benoit had helped her hire security.

"I have not found wickedness to be the sole province of the wealthy," Benoit replied. "And I do not think you will find yourself making the same mistakes that Harlan and Ines have. I trust in your clear eyes and kind heart; I advise you to do the same."

Marta swallowed thickly. "I am not the only one with a kind heart," she said. Benoit reached across the gear shift and squeezed her hand.

Luciana's ex boyfriend, Mateo worked at a charming bakery that smelled delicious. He smiled at her when she came up to the counter, and his expression hardened when she told him in Spanish that she was looking for Luciana.

"Please - can we just speak for a moment?" Marta asked. "Her Luciana's grandmother is worried sick."

Mateo set his jaw, and then asked his co-worker to take over while he led Marta through the bakery and into the back alley, Benoit following a few steps behind.

Even the back alleys in Barcelona were charming; there was cobblestone under Marta's feet, and while there was a ubiquitous dumpster, there was also fresh laundry drying above them.

"Luciana's grandmother smothers her," Mateo said, jaw clenched. "Luciana's a good girl, she never does anything wrong, and her grandmother acts like she can get Luciana's father to act right by punishing his daughter. She hated me ever since Luciana and I started dating, she tried everything to get us to break up. Do you know how much money she offered me?" He scoffed in disguist.

Like a bolt of lightning, Marta understood what Benoit meant by 'gravity's rainbow', what it felt like to stand at the place where the truth was revealed.

"Is that why you helped her run away?" she asked.

"No," he lied.

* * *

Luciana was safe and unharmed, in Madrid. She had been clever enough to leave her phone behind, to wear her least favorite clothes, to not touch any of her credit cards. She was staying with a friend of Mateo's. The plan had been for Luciana to get a job, stay long enough to prove to her grandmother that she could take care of herself, come back to greater freedom.

Mateo and Luciana's had never broken up; Luciana had told her grandmother that they had, when instead they'd been hatching this plan.

Mateo and Ines were both on the high speed train to Madrid to reunite with the much loved Luciana, and would hopefully take the time to grow less contemptuous of the other.

Benoit and Marta had stopped at one of the vineyards between Ines' villa and Barcelona and were enjoying a delicious red as the sun set. The rows of grape plants were golden, the far off hills a dusky purple. 

"Nice work, Watson," Benoit said, and lifted his glass. Marta tapped her wineglass against his.

"Salut," she said with a smile.


End file.
